Put It In The Scrapbook
by Red Witch
Summary: Another day of what passes for intelligent conversation at the Figgis Agency. Insults, alcohol, interesting topics, animals running amok, scrapbooks, and some casual irradiation.


** I think I put the disclaimer saying that I don't own any Archer characters in a scrapbook somewhere. This is just more madness that came out of my tiny little mind. Takes place about a day after Move Over Algonquin Round Table. **

**Put It In The Scrapbook **

"So, AJ didn't feel the earthquake?" Ray asked Lana. They were sitting in the Figgis Agency bullpen along with Cyril, Cheryl, Krieger and Pam who were all doing various things.

"Nope," Lana drank some coffee. "I tell you that kid can sleep pretty deeply when she wants to."

"Well we cleaned up most of the damage," Pam said as she was working on a scrapbook.

"Except for the axe in that desk," Lana looked at the object.

"It's a conversation starter," Pam shrugged.

"Speaking of starting something…" Cyril realized someone had walked into the office. "Hello…"

Mallory looked around dejectedly. "Well, nothing's on fire. And there aren't any more holes in the walls or destroyed furniture. I suppose **that's** something."

"That's the spirit!" Cheryl cheered. "Lower your expectations!"

"Why do I even bother coming in here?" Mallory groaned.

"Beats the shit out of me," Cheryl said.

"One day I will," Mallory glared at her. "Literally."

"She can do that," Krieger nodded as he was reading a magazine. "Trust me on this."

Mallory looked around. "Why is there an axe in that table? Did you have another poker night?"

"See?" Pam said to the others. "Conversation starter."

"Yes, we did," Cyril admitted. "But compared to the damage from the earthquake…"

"Is **tha**t what that was the other night?" Mallory groaned. "I just thought that was another hole from my life bottoming out."

"Still no change with Archer huh?" Lana sighed.

"No Lana," Mallory snapped. "Sterling's up and about! He just went to New York to star in a new hit Broadway Play! How I Ruined My Mother's Life!"

"I never thought he had any musical ability," Cheryl blinked.

"Considering this is from someone who has **no ability** whatsoever…" Mallory groaned as she went to the bar. "I'm sorry Lana. I'm just so tired. I've been at Sterling's bedside nonstop for what feels like a year. I don't know how long it's actually been…"

"I know," Lana sighed. "You should get some rest. I'll go visit Archer."

"Don't bother," Mallory waved. "There was another shootout or something and the entire hospital is on lockdown. Good thing I was able to sneak out the back. I just needed a break. And to get away from all those sick people."

"I can imagine how much of a burden that would be," Ray said dryly.

"You have no idea," Mallory took a drink. "All day long outside Sterling's hospital room I hear: _We have a Code Blue! We have a Code Red! Nurse, what's happening with my husband in surgery? Somebody get a doctor! I need some ICC stat! Is my husband still in surgery? We have another quarantine. What do you mean my husband's dead? He was the one __**performing **__the surgery!_ Blah, blah, blah…It's enough to make you want to drink."

"Like you need another reason," Pam said as she worked on her scrapbook.

"What are you **doing**?" Mallory asked as she walked over to Pam.

"I'm making a scrapbook of what's been going on," Pam explained. "When Archer gets out of his coma he can get caught up."

"That explains that picture of Carol passed out on the copier wearing nothing but her underwear," Mallory sighed. "And that other one of you lot at a bar."

"Is it my fault I know how to give my audience what it wants?" Pam asked.

Mallory paused. "You're not wrong."

"I even put in the latest ad for Glengoolie Blue," Pam pointed. "Glengoolie Blue Ultra! Making the best of times ultra-special!"

"I have to admit," Ray looked. "I'm impressed with the embossing."

"It is beautiful," Mallory was stunned. "Damn it Pam, why didn't you tell me that you were good at something besides shoving more than one bearclaw into your mouth? I could have used you back in the days I was in the Women's Club. Working on that god-awful directory under Beekman."

"Mallory why don't you just sit down?" Lana said. "Take a load off."

"Why not?" Mallory groaned as she did so. "I don't know what to do anymore. I feel so helpless."

"Of course, you do," Cheryl said as she looked at a magazine. "All your life you've been coming to Archer's rescue and now he's in the **one situation** where you can't do anything. Hello! Huge Messiah complex for Ms. Archer on line one!"

"I wouldn't say Messiah…" Krieger spoke up.

"Why not?" Mallory asked. "I would!"

"I know how you feel Mallory," Lana admitted. "I keep thinking if there was anything I could have done differently…"

"And then you realize that no, it wasn't **you**," Cyril interrupted. "That Archer got himself into this mess by dicking around and being a total dick to you and the rest of us!"

"He's not wrong," Mallory admitted.

"I know but…" Lana sighed. "I know I should visit Archer more. I know that. But sometimes…Sometimes I feel…"

"That Archer is purposely dragging this out for a joke?" Cheryl spoke up. "That he'd do anything to avoid a meaningful conversation about his relationship with Lana? Not to mention thinking it's hilarious to keep everybody hanging on what's going on with our lives? Anything to keep the attention on himself while having the time of his life?"

Lana paused. "So, it's not just me?"

"Nope," Cheryl shook her head.

"I was thinking that too," Mallory admitted. "Son of a bitch."

"Your words," Ray quipped.

"Let's change the conversation," Cheryl groaned. "This angst shit is soooooo borrrrrinnggg!"

"Fine," Mallory sighed. "What's in that newspaper you're reading Cyril? Anything that might cheer me up?"

"Well," Cyril looked at the paper. "There's an article on how they've discovered that the Grand Canyon has been exposing people to radiation for years."

Ray looked at Cyril. "Way to **cheer people up** Cyril!"

"I think I just figured out why they asked you to not come back when you volunteered for that suicide hotline," Pam groaned.

"Is it so wrong to find out if there are people with worse lives than yours?" Cyril asked. "I found it very therapeutic."

"Those are **not **the words the Suicide Hotline people used," Lana sighed.

Cyril kept reading. "Apparently they discovered that there's been radiation coming from the back room of a museum. They found three plastic paint buckets full of uranium that have been stored there accidentally for years. But they have no clue how it got there."

"**Three buckets** full of **uranium?"** Ray gasped. "In plastic _paint buckets?"_

Krieger blinked. "So **that's **where I put it!"

"_What?"_ Lana did a double take.

"Ms. Archer remember way back when we were a spy agency the first time?" Krieger asked. "Before the whole cocaine thing? You had me and Archer go out to this Air Force base to transport some uranium for a secret mission? Remember?"

"Uh…" Mallory paused. "You might want to narrow that down some more Krieger."

"Oh, sweet Jesus," Ray groaned.

"**Remember?"** Krieger prompted. "That CIA guy, not Hawley but that **other guy** that was a director had stolen some uranium from some homegrown terrorist but he wanted to keep the uranium under wraps for some reason? And you said you'd take care of it?"

"And by you taking care of it," Lana paused. "I'm assuming you meant Krieger."

"Yes," Mallory said. "And…"

FLASHBACK!

"God transporting uranium and disposing it for my mother," Archer groaned as he drove a truck. "Typical! She just had to ruin my weekend."

"Isn't she paying both of us a couple grand to keep this a secret?" Krieger asked. He was in the passenger seat.

"You're getting **paid**?" Archer snapped. "God damn it Mother!"

"Whomp, whomp," Krieger quipped.

"Are you sure it's safe to just drive some uranium around in a pickup truck like this?" Archer asked.

"Yeah it'll be fine," Krieger waved. "Although I did have trouble closing that one lid. I hope the duct tape holds."

"Krieger I may not know much about transporting hazardous materials…" Archer began. "But I'm pretty sure…Hey! A bar! Let's check it out!"

"Why not?" Krieger asked. "You have your mother's expense card, don't you?"

"Duh!" Archer said.

FLASHBACK!

"Well this is great," Archer hiccupped as he and Krieger were drinking. "Man, this Rattlesnake Whisky is good. Remind me to order a few bottles."

"I'm glad we did this," Krieger said as he drank. "We don't get out enough and just hang."

"We don't," Archer hiccupped. "I don't get why."

"Me neither," Krieger said. "Especially when you consider the fact we might be technically legally related. If those papers Ms. Archer signed were legitimate when she smuggled me into the country."

"_What?"_ Archer did a double take.

"Not important," Krieger waved. "Hey! You know what would be cool? Seeing the Grand Canyon! It's close by here! They have a museum and everything!"

"Booorrrinnng!" Archer snorted. "Forget it. Besides we gotta transport the uranium. Just a few more drinks and we'll go."

A FEW DRINKS LATER…

"Hey! Hey!" Archer said drunkenly. "Let's go to the Grand Canyon! Whoooo hooo!"

LATER…

"YEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!" Archer whooped as he took a leak off of a viewing area of the Grand Canyon. "Another item on the bucket list checked off!"

"Me too!" Krieger said as he did the same thing. "But I got one more thing on my bucket list to check off."

"Does it have something to do with the buckets in the truck?" Archer hiccupped.

"No, but it could be," Krieger admitted.

FLASHBACK!

"Why are we bringing these buckets in again?" Archer asked as he carried a bucket into the museum.

"Because I need to check it off the bucket list," Krieger giggled drunkenly as he put his buckets down. "Duh!"

"Ohhhh!" Archer laughed. "That's right. That makes so much sense."

"Yeah…" Krieger snorted.

"Wait how did we get in here?" Archer looked around. "Isn't this museum closed?"

"Eh I have a skeleton key," Krieger waved. "And a few skeletons. But who doesn't? Am I right?"

"Oh, I get it," Archer laughed drunkenly. "Wanna throw up on some exhibits?"

"Why not?" Krieger shrugged.

FLASHBACK AGAIN!

Krieger was driving the truck this time as Archer was in the passenger seat. They were both singing. " _I've been drivin' all night, my hand's wet on the wheel! There's a voice in my head that drives my heel! My baby called, said she needs me here! It's half past four and I'm shifting gears! When she gets lonely and the longing gets too much…" _

"_Her big boobs I wanna touch!" _Archer sang drunkenly. "Phrasing…Ha…Ha!" He then passed out.

"I have the weirdest feeling we forgot something," Krieger blinked. "Eh, can't be that important."

FLASHFORWARD!

"Huh," Krieger remarked. "I guess it was important."

"Oh, for the love of…" Mallory groaned.

"You wanted us to get rid of it!" Krieger protested. "We got rid of it!"

"So…" Ray sighed. "We irradiated the Grand Canyon?"

"Looks like it," Krieger shrugged.

"That's something to put in the scrapbook," Pam remarked.

"I'm sure the Feds will appreciate that," Ray quipped. "Stickers and embossing really brighten up evidence."

"Read something else Cyril…" Lana sighed. "Please."

"Yeah let's see what **other disasters** we're responsible for," Pam added.

"Listen to this," Cyril read. "About seven thousand people have signed a petition to sell Montana to Canada to eliminate the national debt."

Mallory paused. "Throw in half of California and all of Wisconsin and I say go for it."

"I'm from Wisconsin," Pam protested.

"Exactly," Mallory said.

"You would really give up **two and a half states**?" Lana was stunned.

"I would give up half the states if I had a stake in it," Mallory said.

"Giving up two states would bring our number down to 48," Cyril said. "And fewer taxes. How would you fix that?"

"Simple," Mallory said. "Make Puerto Rico and Guam states in their place. Problem solved."

"Oh my God…" Ray groaned.

"Hey!" Mallory snapped. "Say what you will about the United States stealing Hawaii. But when we did our tourism industry **skyrocketed**! All we have to do is fix some roads, spruce up the beaches, put in a few resorts…Maybe a casino or two? Bam! We got two Hawaii Lites! Which I guarantee will make more money that those other two states ever did!"

"Interesting to see how her mind works isn't it?" Ray said to Lana.

"And best of all," Mallory said. "People from those two islands will be American citizens! That's a huge benefit."

"Yeah **that **was the consolation prize we gave the Hawaiians after we dethroned their queen, disbanded their government, stole their island, made them second class citizens on their own land and took all the beaches for ourselves," Lana remarked.

"People from Puerto Rico and Guam **are** citizens of the United States," Cyril pointed out.

"Well, only technically," Mallory waved. "I mean they don't even get a vote in the Senate. I mean they have representatives that go there, but it's like Take Your Child to Work Day. They only show up and watch everything but not really participate. They'd be lucky if they got to bang the gavel and have a treat afterwards."

"She does have a point there," Lana admitted with a shrug. "An insensitive point, but still a point."

"Lana," Mallory looked at her. "People from both Puerto Rico and Guam are hardworking individuals. Many of which serve in our nation's military! I would trade all those donut dunkers and cheese eaters from Montana and Wisconsin in a heartbeat for **one** of those islands! Plus, they are way better in the hotel industry. I mean they do run and clean most of the hotels in this country anyway…"

"You're listening to Casual Racism With Mallory," Ray mocked. "Sponsored by Klan White! When you need to get your robes the very whitest for that big cross burning event!"

"Watch it Missy!" Mallory glared. "I **despise** cross-burning! I feel it shows blatant disrespect to our Lord and Savior!"

Mallory then looked at her phone. "Jesus Christ what the hell does that stupid ass Reverend Fletcher want?"

Lana rolled her eyes. "Way to honor our lord and savior, Mallory."

"Fletcher," Pam remembered something. "Isn't he the guy that presided over Woodhouse's funeral?"

"Yes," Mallory grumbled. "And as luck would have it, he's also one of the chaplains at the hospital."

"How is Reverend Fletcher working at the hospital a **bad thing**?" Lana asked. "I would have thought he would be some comfort to you or something?"

"Not when he keeps trying to hit me up for money," Mallory grumbled. "Apparently I may have given him the impression that I would give money to the church or something."

"Or something?" Lana asked. "What do you mean by **something?**"

FLASHBACK!

"That was a lovely service Reverend," Mallory sniffed as she stood beside Woodhouse's grave.

"Yes, it was…" Reverend Fletcher paused. "Rather interesting. I'm sorry to bring this up at such a delicate time but you do realize that our church requires a small fee for funerals by non-members. And it was promised us by Mr. Archer when he set up this service in advance…"

"Oh right," Mallory looked into her purse.

"We don't ask for much," Reverend Fletcher said. "I mean we do need money for the upkeep of our church."

"Can't you just hit Rome up for some more coin?" Mallory asked as she rummaged into her purse.

"Rome? Ms. Archer this is a Protestant Church," Reverend Fletcher said. "You do realize that, don't you?"

"You're not Irish, are you?" Mallory realized.

"No, my family is from England. What does that have to do with anything?" Reverend Fletcher asked.

Mallory had taken out a potato. "Then I'm guessing this potato won't cover it?"

FLASHFORWARD!

"I was out of my mind with grief okay?" Mallory snapped.

"And alcohol," Ray added.

"And racism," Pam added.

"Any-who," Mallory sighed. "I still haven't paid and the Reverend is still a little miffed. He's probably even more upset because I left him behind when the lockdown started. And I may have scratched his car a little when I drove away."

"New topic," Lana groaned. "**Any** new topic. Please!"

"Hey! Remember this night?" Pam showed them the scrapbook. "That was a fun night!"

"Is that a **horse?**" Lana blinked.

"In a **bar**?" Mallory was stunned.

"Yup!" Pam nodded. "It was Derby Night at Derby Dan's! Actually, every night is Derby Night at Derby Dan's."

"Why would you bring a horse into a **bar?**" Lana asked.

"Why wouldn't we?" Cheryl asked.

"Do I want to know **this story?**" Mallory asked Lana.

"I don't even know this story!" Lana protested.

"We decided not to tell you," Ray said. "PAM!"

"Sorry!" Pam apologized.

"What's to tell?" Cheryl asked. "I got a horse from one of my crazy dead relatives. I decided bring it to the bar. The horse ate all the peanuts. Bit a waiter. Took a dump on the floor and kicked the bar, shattering half the glasses and booze. Then it got away and ran wild for three days until it was found eating Gary Busey's begonias."

"Needless to say, we were banned from Derby Dan's for life," Ray remarked.

"On the plus side," Cheryl spoke up. "I sold the horse to Gary Busey. They really bonded."

"You can see it in this picture," Pam showed them.

"Oh yeah," Lana said. "That's Gary Busey all right. He and the horse look good together."

Mallory looked at the picture. "Okay I admit **that's** interesting. And some really nice embellishment. Damn you Pam!"

"I like these pictures," Pam turned the page. "Remember the tea party we had for AJ in the office?"

"Is **that **what you were doing?" Mallory asked. "I thought you maniacs had finally snapped."

"Not yet," Cyril sighed. "Getting close but not yet."

"I also put some of the tea party pictures in a separate scrapbook," Pam explained. "One I made for Archer about AJ. So he can get caught up."

"There's the afternoon we did the beer pong tournament," Krieger pointed as Pam turned a page. "That was fun."

Cheryl giggled. "Until Ray miscalculated a throw and threw the ping pong into a wall with his bionic hand."

"I was a little tipsy!" Ray snapped. "Sue me!"

"I **should!**" Mallory snapped. "What do you people do? Go around doing stupid things and partying all day?"

"If you have to ask…" Pam said.

"Where the hell have **you been** these past few years?" Ray looked at Mallory.

"Even I have to admit that was a stupid question," Lana shrugged.

"From the woman who won the beer pong tournament," Cheryl added.

"I was getting tired of being left out! Okay?" Lana snapped. "Unfortunately, I was a little tipsy and in no state to drive AJ."

"I went with Lana," Krieger grinned. "And drove her to get coffee. Then we picked AJ up in the Rush Van. And I just detailed it too. Me on a submarine in my spiffy new bathing suit!"

"Boy did we get looks **that day,"** Lana groaned.

Mallory turned the pages. "What's the story with **this picture**? Carol what is your stupid ocelot doing?"

"Oh, that's another funny story," Pam said. "Cheryl heard about a cat show and decided to enter Babou."

"Technically Babou does qualify," Cheryl said.

"The problem was that Ding Dong over here got the date wrong," Pam said. "And when we arrived instead of a cat show…"

FLASHBACK!

"AAAAAAAAAHHH!" A man in a horse costume ran for his life as Babou chased him.

FLASHFORWARD!

"So, grown men dressing up like horses is a **thing**?" Mallory was stunned.

"Yup," Lana sighed. "They're fans of certain horse themed shows."

"Ironically," Pam remarked. "I think it's the first time some of them actually ran in their lives."

Mallory snickered. "Okay, I admit I find **that** funny!"

"Yeah it was hilarious when they threatened to sue us," Cyril said. "Fortunately, we told them that it was technically Cheryl's fault."

"Boy Ugly was really steamed when he had to take care of another lawsuit," Cheryl laughed.

"_Who?"_ Mallory asked.

"Nobody important," Cheryl waved. "Never mind."

Ray explained. "Mr. Lee is the guy who runs Cheryl's board of directors and company. He's the one who technically pays the bills for Cheryl's protection and covers her ass whenever she goes crazy and pulls some kind of stunt."

"Like the time she burned down that country music morning show," Pam added.

"I thought that was **me?**" Mallory snapped.

"You did some of that," Lana said. "But it was Cheryl's company that bought the studio and paid off the hospital bills of those people she burned. And paid bribe money to keep them quiet. And the fire department. And the police."

"In other words, I lost a few favors for **nothing?**" Mallory groaned. "Cyril find **something else** to read in the news. Maybe something with more death and destruction? I'll feel better knowing it doesn't just happen to me."

"Well…." Cyril looked at the paper. "Lordstrom's is closing more stores."

"Wonderful Cyril," Mallory groaned. "Kick me while I'm down."

"I know what will cheer you up," Pam said.

"Besides burning this place to the ground?" Mallory sighed.

"How about we all go out for drinks?" Pam suggested.

"It's not even noon," Lana told her.

"What's your point?" Mallory groaned. "Why the hell not? Only I'm not going with any of **you!**"

"That's even better," Cheryl grinned.

"I don't know **why** I come here," Mallory said to herself as she got up and began to leave.

"I don't either," Cheryl added. "It's not like we encourage you."

"One day you will encourage me to burn this place to the ground!" Mallory shouted.

"You always say that but you never **do it**!" Cheryl pouted. "TEASE!"

"Mallory maybe I should take you home?" Lana suggested. "You need to rest."

"You're right," Mallory admitted. "Plus, I just restocked my liquor cabinet so I already paid for the alcohol."

"That's the spirit," Lana sighed as she got up. "I'll take you home. You can pick up your car tomorrow."

"Aww that means she's coming **back**?" Cheryl pouted.

"One day I swear I am going to put a bullet in what passes for a brain in that empty head of yours," Mallory growled. "And not even all the money in the world can save you."

"Mallory no!" Cyril protested. "We can't kill Cheryl! We need her money!"

"What exactly does she pay us for **again**?" Mallory asked.

"Mostly protection," Cyril admitted. "Some odd jobs. Mostly arson investigation."

"How many times?" Mallory asked.

"At least twice a month," Cyril admitted. Cheryl giggled with glee.

Mallory sighed in defeat. "Fine. Cheryl, Daughter of Stupid lives. For now."

"Ha! Ha!" Cheryl stuck her tongue out.

"Come on Mallory," Lana steered Mallory away. "Let's get you home. Have a good meal into you and get some rest."

"I'd rather have some pills in me and the rest of the absinthe," Mallory grumbled as she left with Lana.

"Well…" Ray paused. "That killed about twenty minutes. Now what?"

"Let's do something," Pam suggested.

"Like what?" Cyril asked.

"Like…" Pam thought.

THIRTY MINUTES LATER…

"WHOOO HOOOOOOOOOOO!" Krieger whooped as he drove a go-kart in an indoor track.

"OH YEAH!" Ray shouted as he passed Krieger. "GO HERD!"

"EAT MY DUST!" Pam shouted as she drove ahead.

"IT'S CYRIL ANDRETTI FOR THE WIN!" Cyril shouted as he pulled past Pam.

"IN YOUR DREAMS!" Pam shouted.

"YAY! I CRASHED INTO A WALL!" Cheryl cheered.

FORTY-FIVE MORE MINUTES LATER…

"This is a great place," Ray said as the gang sat at a booth at a bar. "Not only did we get to drive go-karts, we got to drink at a bar."

"And we got pictures of us driving," Cheryl said. "Ooh! A mechanical bull!" She got up and went to it.

"Why is she taking off her shirt?" Cyril asked.

"Who cares?" Krieger took out his phone. "I'm seriously asking!"

"Wheee!" Cheryl rode the bull with her shirt off, showing off her bra.

"That is so going in the scrapbook!" Pam said as she took a picture.

"I can't wait until Archer sees **this scrapbook**," Ray quipped.

"I'd like a copy of this scrapbook please," Cyril asked.

"Me too," Krieger agreed.


End file.
